


From the Ashes (We Will Rise)

by hedatopaz



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Angst, Character Development, Clexa Week, Clexa Week 2020, Death, F/F, F/M, also lincoln jasper and the blake siblings are all in the story but only mentioned as of right now, might make this part of a two/part series idk yet, they’d be mains in part 2 if I end up making it tho!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:20:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23043151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hedatopaz/pseuds/hedatopaz
Summary: ⇄⇄⇄“Maybe in another world I could’ve known you, Clarke. But, not in this one. Twenty-four go in. One comes out. Anything we knew before is gone now. Any hesitation or feeling left in us will certainly lead us to our death. All we must know now is survival.”“Maybe life should be about more than just surviving.”⇄⇄⇄T100/THG crossover. Main ship is Clexa. Main characters are Clarke, Lexa, Josephine & Raven.
Relationships: Clarke Griffin & Lexa, Clarke Griffin/Lexa, Finn Collins/Raven Reyes, Josephine Lightbourne/Gabriel Santiago | Xavier
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	1. Disclaimers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My disclaimer list and why I decided to write this fic. Not essential to read so skip if you’d like but I recommend reading the disclaimers, thanks! Story starts in the next chapter. There is a quick note from me at the top though :))

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my fellow clexa fans! :D Here’s a quick note from me before you get started with the story!
> 
> This is actually a fic I started a while back, but I sort of abandoned it due to lack of reader interest and having a very busy semester.
> 
> However, since day five of Clexa week 2020 is AU-themed I thought it would be a perfect time to revamp this idea since I still have inspiration for this idea!I am going to re-upload the chapters I have already posted and pick up from there. I still have a rough outline for plot and have started drafting future chapters, but the story is far from complete so bear with me! I hope you enjoy it nonetheless and as always, thanks for reading!

_**ACTUAL STORY STARTS NEXT CHAPTER.** _

**Disclaimers:**

Yes, I do know there is another thg clexa fic and I am in no way trying to copy it! I am actually in the process of reading the entire thing to make sure I didn’t unintentionally duplicate any of the ideas. While I did take some of my inspiration from that fic, I am planning to make mine different because it will have a different plotline, and characters from later seasons. So, I discourage you from comparing the two - especially because I’m more of a beginner than the author of that fic and likely will not write as well. 

(EDIT: I am referring to Blood Must Have Blood by LexAlexAU) 

The story will follow four main characters; all who are tributes in the 102nd Hunger Games. Josephine Lightbourne from District 1, Lexa Woods from District 2, Raven Reyes from District 3, and Clarke Griffin from District 8. It will be done in a third-person POV, giving each character their own POV until the arena where it will be more of a solely third-person omniscient POV.

In this universe, Katniss’s rebellion never happened. I picked 102 because of its connotation to the 100, being the number of children sent down to Earth (including Bellamy and Raven). I also wanted the games to have been going on for a while, and it is a year that is close to a quarter quell (which is important for one of my characters later on). 

I think that I plan on splitting this “series” into two books/works, but that of course depends on how well it is received and if I’ll be able to write well enough for the second part. Why I say that is because I already have a set plan for this part, and mostly a collection of ideas for the second. Or I might just split this work into two but not actually create a second work, but I haven’t really decided yet. So bear with me, lol.

**_Why I decided to write this fic:_ **

When the Hunger Games movies came out, I was a die-hard fan. Absolutely loved it. Something drew me back to it, and especially, when I heard that Suzanne Collins was releasing another book, I had a lot of inspiration to write this fic. I think that characters from the 100 are perfect to throw into the THG universe. I have a lot of inspiration for Josephine after last season, and of course a lot of inspiration for clexa (seeing as I am a die-hard fan of them as well). I also love Raven, and thought she would be a great character for the story I plan on writing. I am including other characters! It is just these four that the story will focus on for the most part.

Let’s be honest, am I the best writer? No. But, this is fan fiction after all! Doesn’t have to be perfect. I just want to share my love for these characters and my story idea with the rest of you. If you have any critiques or suggestions of how I could be writing better, feel free to let me know in the comment section. Also, on the other side, feel free to let me know if you are enjoying the story as well! Positive comments really do warm my heart and they are what inspire me to keep writing.

That all being said, I hope you enjoy!!! 


	2. Clarke Griffin, District 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introduction to Clarke Griffin, the female tribute from District 8 in the 102nd Hunger Games. Set on Reaping Day.

In the beginning, for Clarke Griffin, life was simple. She’d walk with Madi every morning to school and walk with Madi back home every afternoon. No matter what had happened that day, Clarke and Madi always had each other, and a loving home to come back to. They never had to worry if there would be dinner on the table or the electricity being turned off due to an unpaid bill. Their mother was a doctor, and her father a designer for Peacekeeper uniforms, so their income was higher than most in the district.

Clarke would spend the rest of her day drawing, or learning different skills from her mother. Doctors were rare in District 8, but like any other district, they were needed. Clarke wanted to be one of them, or rather, that was what she planned to do. What she really wanted was to be an artist, but she knew that was neither practical nor realistic. But, she supposed there were much worse problems in life than having a dream she couldn’t quite achieve. 

She would read to Madi every night, or tell her stories of another life, one where she didn’t have to watch her peers nearly starve or be sent off annually to die on live television. Clarke dreaded the day Madi would be eligible, and got a pit in her stomach before reaping day every year. But, once it ended, and her name wasn’t picked, she went back to her happy and fairly simple life. She didn’t have everything she wanted, and things were far from perfect, but Clarke was happy.

That was before the infection.

Seemingly overnight, Jake Griffin had gotten fatally sick. It had taken a mere days for him to succumb to his illness, and it wasn’t like anything District 8 had seen before. Nothing her mother, or any other doctor in the district, could treat. 

No one knew what had happened, except Clarke.

The day he got sick, Jake Griffin had spent his time designing uniforms as usual, until he had noticed the laptop a peacekeeper had hastily left behind, wide open and unlocked.

In it, if you looked in the right place, lied secrets with the potential to destroy the Capitol, locations of weapons that would give the Districts a large advantage in the event of a war, and fatal flaws in the Capitol’s defenses. 

The computer was like a train wreck, something so horrid that you couldn’t force yourself to look away from. The things he saw on that laptop weren’t things he could come back from, not the type you could live long enough to remember. He had only told Clarke and her mother of those findings. Somehow, someway, those inside the Capitol found out about what he had seen. After that, the thought of letting him live to tell what he had seen was not an option.

The Capitol, with its extensive knowledge of biological warfare, mostly used in their annual Hunger Games, introduces Jake Griffin to a deadly virus, giving him two days to live. Had he not known the District’s mayor, it would have taken hours, but Thelonious Jaha had his ways and was able to negotiate enough to let Jake spend his last days with his family. He was threatened that if he spoke a word to any of his family members, they’d share his fate.

“If you ever need it,” he told Clarke as he slipped a minuscule folded slip of paper to her. How he found the time and privacy to write it, God only knew, but he had, and soon enough Clarke knew the Capitol’s secrets too.

Things changed very quickly after that. They had become a single-income family overnight, which would’ve been manageable with her mother’s relatively high-paying job. Her mother fell into addiction after the pain of losing her husband, and while she was still able to make enough money to sustain the family, it wasn’t much else. Clarke found herself taking more shifts at the textile factory, and signing herself up for tesserae was no longer a distant option. It wasn’t instant, but Clarke’s dreams of being a doctor slowly drifted away. Her mother was too high to function past the bare minimum required to keep her job, and making sure she could take care of and provide for Madi took top priority.

Nonetheless, life continued on. Then came reaping day.

⇄⇄⇄

“They won’t pick you, Madi.” Clarke spoke, running her fingers through her little sister’s soft brunette hair. “It’s your first year. Your name is in there _once_.” 

“Yeah, but my name’s still in there.” Madi whispered, her voice quavering. “I’m scared, Clarke.” 

“You and every other kid that’s eligible.” Clarke replied, sifting through the knots in Madi’s hair and turning them to braids. “The difference is, you have no reason to be.”

“But what if you get picked?”

The question wasn’t unwarranted. Clarke was eighteen, so her name had been entered seven times, plus another three for tesserae. Her odds are being picked weren’t the highest, but they weren’t slim either. 

“I won’t.” Clarke said, trying to sound as sure of herself as possible so she could calm Madi down.

Madi’s body immediately tensed up when she heard the bell announcing the reaping ring through the town.

“No, no, I’m not ready.” Madi rambled, pulling herself 

“It’s okay.” Clarke spoke. “I’ll be with you the whole time.”

⇄⇄⇄

Clarke walked alongside Madi, holding her hand tightly in her own and squeezing it periodically in an attempt to comfort her little sister. Their nerves were both through the roof, and they’d been dreading this day for longer than she could remember. She felt her heart skip a beat when she and Madi stopped walking, having made it to the registration tables.

“Clarke Griffin and Madi Griffin.” Clarke spoke, telling the woman behind the table who they were.

The woman, who didn’t even bother to look up, grabbed Clarke’s hand. Clarke barely even felt the prick of her finger when her blood was drawn. Years of working with the sewing machine had made her used to any thing of the sort. She sighed as she unconsciously ran her fingers through Madi’s hair. 

“It’s okay.” She whispered to her, giving her a small smile. “Just give her your finger.”

Madi reluctantly held her finger forward, wincing when her blood was drawn. She didn’t even notice how impersonal it all was, as if she wasn’t being entered in a lottery leading to probable death to the winning ticket. Her fear overtook any other thoughts that could run through her mind. 

Clarke’s hand brushed against Madi’s back as they walked to the groups of children, standing anxiously in roped-off areas. She knew she would have to let Madi go, it was twelve year olds with twelve year olds and eighteen year olds with eighteen year olds. They would be on opposite ends of the sector. 

“It’s okay, I’ll find you after.” Clarke reassured Madi. “Go.” She gave her a small smile and began walking.

As soon as everyone had arrived in the town square, the same century-old video that played every year began, on the large projected screen in the front. Everyone’s eyes slowly shifted to the monitor. No one bothered to pay much attention, as everyone had seen it several times, but it was a mandatory part of the ceremony. 

District 8’s escort, Diana Sydney, greeted everyone with a wide smile. “Hello and welcome to the 102nd Hunger Games!” she gleefully cheered. “May the odds be ever in your favor.” 

Clarke could feel her stomach turn. It was infuriating how gleeful she was, as she was about to knowingly send two innocent children to their deaths. She knew the games were just a fun television event to the Capitol citizens, but it was still revolting to see it.

“Ladies first.” The escort smiled, reaching her over-glossed hand into the bowl. A thousand thoughts ran through Clarke’s head, her name was in that bowl _fourteen_ times. Seven for being eighteen, the oldest age eligible, and the other seven for tesserae applications for her family. She had not allowed Madi to take any, and she wasn’t going to in the following years either. Clarke had to do whatever it took, but she would never lay that responsibility on Madi.

The escort picked up the small slip, unfolding it slowly. Clarke watched her unpractically long nails pick at the paper. Her nails were blood red, ironically. Under different circumstances, Clarke would find this hilarious. Maybe she still would, once this was over and her name wasn’t called.

And her name _wasn’t_ called. Madi’s was.

“Madi Griffin?” The escort repeated over the microphone. “Come up, dear.”

 _No, no. There’s no way._ Madi is entered _once._ It’s not possible. Clarke could barely even process what was happening until Madi’s name is called a third time. She knew that now, the peacekeepers were going to start looking for her in the crowds, and Madi didn’t have much time before she was forced along an inevitable death march.

Still, Madi froze up in terror. She couldn’t even move if she wanted to. Madi’s worst fear had come true, and she was going to die, scared and alone. The only person more scared than her was Clarke, who could feel herself descend further into panic with every passing second.

“No.” Clarke whispered, no one able to hear her over the crowd’s murmurs. It never quite sat right with anyone when a twelve year-old was picked, because everyone knew it wasn’t fair and everyone knew they didn’t have a shot at surviving.

Despite Madi’s inability to move, the crowd around Madi started to clear, isolating her into plain view. She slowly began to step forward, her face turning pale and her body trembling in fear. 

“Not possible.”

Clarke felt her knees buckle, and she knew that she didn’t have much time before she fell to the ground

“No, you can’t. No!” 

Clarke’s cries were barely audible as she feels all the energy leave her body. Then, she remembered, she still had a way to save Madi, even if it meant certain death for herself.

“Wait.” She lurched forward, pushing through the crowds as tears welled up in her eyes. “I volunteer, I volunteer!”

Everyone’s eyes shifted onto Clarke, but Clarke was only focused on Madi. She did her best not to cry, but it’s useless. She could feel slipping out of her eyes and streaming down her cheeks. 

“I volunteer as tribute.” She choked out, her voice set now, more sure of herself and her decision.

Everyone stayed silent, watching Clarke in both shock and condolence. Anyone who knew Clarke knew how fiercely she loved and protected Madi, so it wasn’t _her_ volunteering that came as a surprise, it was the fact that anyone had volunteered at all. It was a rare occurrence for any District outside of 1, 2, and 4 and become more and more uncommon the further out the numbers went. 

Clarke made her way down the aisle, wiping the last tears to fall down her cheeks off. From now on, she was going to be watched and recorded for nearly every second. She had to be strong for the cameras, but more importantly, she had to be strong for Madi.

“No, Clarke you can’t!” Madi whined, fighting against the peacekeepers that were holding her back. “Please, Clarke!”

Clarke briefly turned around to face Madi, “I’m sorry, Madi.” she frantically apologized, “Go find mom. Just go find mom.” She pleaded as she prepared to make her way up to the stage. 

Madi continued screaming and fighting back, but she was no match for the strong, trained peacekeepers who restrained her.

Clarke had no intention of redacting what she had done. She ignored Madi’s desperate cries and continued walking toward the stage. She scrunched up her face, holding back tears. She hated to hear Madi be in such pain and emotional turmoil, but Clarke knew this was the only way she could save her little sister’s life.

Once Clarke had made her way onto the stage she heard Diana joyfully exclaim, “Wow! A volunteer! What is your name?”

“What?” Clarke asked, too wrapped up in her thoughts to hear the question.

“Your name, dear.” The escort replied, doing her best not to show her irritation. She wasn’t doing the best job, and if Clarke hadn’t been so unnerved, she’d be rolling her eyes.

“Clarke Griffin.”

“Clarke Griffin!” The escort parroted, “Well, I’d bet that was your sister.”

“Yes.” Clarke mumbled. “She is.”

“Well congratulations, Clarke Griffin, may the odds be ever in your favor.” The escort spoke, giving Clarke a quick pat on the shoulder. “Now, for the gentlemen!” 

Clarke could feel her body become heavier when she heard her name come out of Diana’s mouth. Her name felt so foreign in the escort’s mouth, and she knew her name would only bring grief and heartbreak going forward. Then again, she supposed it wouldn’t matter anymore. No one would remember her in the mix of twenty-three other names, many much more interesting than hers. She’d just be the girl from District 8, the girl who died in place of her twelve-year old sister.

She supposed that was alright. As long as Madi was safe, it would be alright.

“Wells Jaha.” 

Clarke heard the name over the booming microphone and froze. She not only recognized the name, but knew it. 

  
She and Wells had been best friends since childhood. Wells had been the only person besides her family that Clarke could trust, or rather, _believed_ she could trust. Her belief had been sorely misplaced.

Wells had been the only person she told about her dad’s plans, meaning he was the one who could have betrayed him to his father. The meer sound of his name made her blood boil but the thought of him dying in the arena was far from unsatisfactory. 

He slowly walked up to the stage, wondering if the reaping had been rigged against him, seeing as the odds of the major’s son being called were minimal. He offered Clarke a small smile, to which she responded with a hostile grimace. Wells knew Clarke hated him for betraying her and he also knew who had actually betrayed her. But, after her father’s death, things became so much harder for Clarke and her family. It was easier to let her hate him, then tear their grieving family apart further by revealing the truth.

So, that is what he did.

“Here are your tributes for the 102nd Hunger Games!” Diana exclaimed, an unnerving amount of joy in her voice. “May the odds be ever in your favor!

Clarke sighed. The odds would never be in her favor.


	3. Lexa Woods, District 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introduction to Lexa Woods, the female tribute from District 2 in the 102nd Hunger Games. Set on Reaping Day.

Lexa Woods was the exception, not the rule. She may have been District 2’s female tribute for the 102nd Hunger Games, but she wasn’t hand-picked like the rest of District 2’s tributes were. She had fought for the position.

It wasn’t completely of her own accord, she was always in the running for the spot. Unlike District 1, who selected a singular tribute ahead of time, District 2 had a line of novitiates training for the much sought-after position. Only in the year previous would the council predetermine the main contender for tribute in the following games. When it was time for the selection for the 102nd games, Luna Flou was the main tribute selected. Lexa took the selection with dignity. It was safe to say she was disappointed, but she respected the council’s decision. Then came the 98th Hunger Games. 

Lexa would never forget the soft touch of Costia’s lips against her own, knowingly kissing her for the last time before the games and unknowingly kissing her for the last time ever.

“Make District 2 proud.” Lexa smiled, giving Costia a playful nudge. “Make me proud.”

Costia nodded, biting her lip as she looked back at Lexa. Costia had been training her whole life for the games, same as her. The two had found each other through training, in fact. Costia and Lexa had their lives planned out. It was why Lexa accepted the selection of Luna over herself so gracefully.

Costia and Lexa would live together in Victor’s Village, winning their games back to back and becoming Panem’s favorite it-couple. They would start a new life together, maybe even a family. They would be held high in all their glory, mentoring the next set of tributes each year and setting forth a new age. Maybe they could even change Panem for the better. But, one thing was certain, whatever they did, it would be _together._

That was until Lexa watched her lover die on nationalized television.

It wasn’t an easy death either, it wasn’t painless, and it wasn’t heroic or meaningful, it wasn’t a careless mistake or misplaced trust in another tribute. Costia did everything right and she still died. Brutally.

Costia had made it to the final three, along with the girl from District 4 and the boy from District 10. Neither of them had the strength to kill her, seeing as the girl had been weakened by poison (courtesy of Costia’s district partner) and the boy was only thirteen. 

The games were at a stalemate, and it really was just a matter of time before the other children died off on their own. All the food and water sources were gone, and the accelerated warmth of the arena alone was teetering everyone on the edge of heat stroke. 

But, heat strokes and dehydration didn’t make for an exciting finale. The gamemakers wanted a show, and they were going to get one. 

So, the gamemakers sent out mutts, and acid-covered spikes that flew from the sky, everywhere except for the dead center of the arena. There laid three stacks of poison darts, with each tribute’s district number on them. 

The boy from 10 got there first, and he took advantage of it, hoarding all the supplies for himself. He proved to make a poor choice by doing so, electrocuting himself to death the second he touched the darts with the number 2 on them.

A cannon shot roared through the arena, leaving Costia and Nia, the girl from District 4, as the final two survivors.

Both girls had witnessed the death of the boy from 10, and ran quickly to pick up their stacks and like children at a dartboard, began pelting the darts directly at each other.

Costia became weaker with every hit but Nia seemed to only get stronger. She pelted shot after shot towards Costia, cornering her further into the woods. Once Costia had fallen to the ground, a machete appeared at the Cornucopia, which Nia used to brutally behead Costia. Her gruesome death was televised for all to see, and played on repeat on all the recap channels. It didn’t sit well with Lexa. The circumstances for Nia’s victory seemed a little too perfect, seeing as the eighteen year old Nia Azgeda had supposedly been weakened by poison already and seemed to be immune to the toxins in Costia’s darts. 

Lexa had watched all her dreams fall down in seconds, watched the girl she loved be slaughtered ruthlessly by a girl who clearly wanted to make a lasting impression. She did just that, becoming a Capitol favorite for her comeback in the Games and her cold and callous nature. Lexa hated her with a passion, but she knew Nia was not the real enemy, the Capitol was. Costia may have died by Nia’s hand, but Nia’s hand was forced by the Capitol, who thought it was entertaining to watch children murder eachother on live television.

Something snapped in Lexa after that. She always knew the games were wrong, but she had somehow forced herself to move past that. She knew how much they meant to Costia, and her vision of a white-picket fence fantasy with her blinded Lexa. The day she watched Costia die on a national television was the day she learned that love truly was weakness. 

She had heard the mantra “ _Love is weakness_ ” time after time growing up, but Costia changed everything. It didn’t matter what she was taught when she met her. She was Lexa’s first love, and like most first loves, she was head over heels. 

It was true that love changes a person, but so does death. Costia’s death changed Lexa for good. She had to learn how to separate feelings from duty, and she knew what she had to do almost immediately. 

Anya, Lexa’s mentor and the victor of the 96th Hunger Games, knew the effect the games had on people. When she came back, Lexa noticed right off the bat that her time in the arena had changed her. She always knew Anya was not fond of the Capitol or its methods–no one really was–but now Anya had experienced first-hand the lavish and gluttonous lifestyle the Capitol lives while her district struggles to get by. Now, Anya was traumatized and furious- which is never a pleasant mix.

Nowadays, Victors typically felt one way or another, they were rarely in-between. They were either in love with the Capitol and their attention, swayed by the life of luxury and the money they had to offer. Or, more commonly, they were fervently against the Capitol, the Games, and everything they stood for. They had been scarred by the arena and then bathed in riches afterward, glorified while twenty-three kids just like them, some of them their friends, lay six feet under the ground. 

District 2, although a career district, was no different. District 2 may have been a wealthy district, but all their prosperity was only relative. People regularly died of starvation and malnutrition, and it wasn’t uncommon for people to die due to unsafe working conditions either. 

So, justifiably, Anya was enraged. She was always among the silent group of rebels in District 1, hidden in plain sight. But, after the games, it was so much more. After the games, she knew rebellion was no longer a _maybe_ or an afterthought. It was a necessity.

Lexa had been brought up to be a future victor, to help infiltrate the Capitol from within. Her mentor, Anya may have been a warrior, but she was hardly a leader. The moment she met the young Lexa Woods she knew that she was perfect for the job. She could unite the districts, she could lead her people into war, she was strong and wise beyond her years, but she was all those things before she was chosen as novitiate. 

Then, Costia had distracted her. _Love_ had distracted her. Anya understood it, but she also recognized it for what it was – weakness. 

Lexa wasn’t distracted anymore. She was focused, and she had learned to separate feelings from duty. This was her duty.

⇄⇄⇄ 

District 2 was different than most districts. Each district was given the choice of how to conduct their Reapings, and most districts chose the lottery system, seeing as being chosen was their children’s worst nightmare. However for District 2, being a career district, the tributes were trained beforehand and brought up to be killers. District 2 only shared this with one other district, District 1. 

But unlike in District 1, where the council chose the tributes for them, District 2 almost always had a final fight for the honor of being a tribute, it was named the Conclave. The council picked a main tribute, and any other novitiates who wanted to be in the games would fight solo gonplei in a tournament-like form, leading up to the final battle against the pre-selected tribute. Whoever won the battle, also won the honor of being tribute.

“Welcome to the 102nd annual Hunger Games!” The familiar voice boomed over the loudspeaker. It was Titus, a former victor and the current leader, or rather Commander of District 2. 

No one could ever tell from looking at her, but Lexa felt her heart beating at the speed of light. She knew that today was the beginning of the end and she would have to do nothing but prove herself for months, possibly years to come. The time for play was over, the time for duty was now.

She knew she would have to unite District 2 first, taking over Titus’s position as Commander, then she’d have to unite the other eleven districts, knowingly leading them into war and bloodshed. But, she knew rebellion was brewing in the Districts, and she knew that war was favorable over the widespread poverty experienced through the districts and the annual slaughter of children for the Capitol’s entertainment.

It had to stop, and it had to stop now. The Capitol had cast a shadow over the Districts for _too long._ Lexa knew she could lead her people through, if she could gather enough strength. 

Lexa eyed the girl standing across from her. Luna looked as if she was out for blood, even though she knew from outside sources that she was never fond of all the training and the fighting. Luna desired a life of peace; just as Lexa used to, or if she was being honest, still did. 

But, that was irrelevant. Lexa knew peace would never be achievable without bloodshed and the downfall of the Capitol, which in turn would never be possible without a leader like herself. There would have to be more war and more slaughter than either of the girls had grown up to imagine. Lexa knew that duty came before feelings or desires. She may never get a life of peace, but she could bring about the life for her people. That was more important. Luna let her emotions get the best of her and had trouble separating the two from each other. She was never born to lead. _Lexa was._

“Now we gather to fight for the right to represent District 2 in the 102nd annual Hunger Games.” Titus spoke, his grating voice booming from the speakers. “As you know, the winner of the fight gets the honor of representing District 2 as tribute. As usual, Solo gonplei, or Single combat. Begin.”

Lexa slowly removed her sword from its sheath and gripped it in her hand. She held it close to her body as watched Luna swing hers in a circular motion, likely in an attempt to intimidate Lexa. She waited for Luna to make her move, knowing she’d get impatient quickly. 

Soon enough, Luna lunged forward towards Lexa, taking a shot for her neck. She clearly wasn’t wasting any time, and she clearly didn’t intend to make any effort to spare Lexa’s life. It wasn’t unusual for prospective tributes to die in the conclave reaping, but it wasn’t necessary or required either. 

Lexa easily dodged the shot, turning around sharply to make a move of her own. She went for a more feasible short, towards Luna’s torso. Luna also dodged the shot, although it caused her to fall back and lose her balance.

Lexa took advantage of this, striking against her. The two girls’ swords clashed against each other, giving Luna an upper hand. She used her strength to push against Lexa, consequently forcing her to her knees. Luna kicked her to the ground, smirking as she fell.

Luna slowly walked towards Lexa and twirled her sword, basking in the moment. Just as she aimed for Lexa’s throat, she realized all too late she had given Lexa enough time to pick herself up and collect the sword that had fallen several feet from her. She pushed Luna, who was overcome by shock, to the ground. 

She stepped towards Luna, who was out-of-breath and too weak to fight back. She set her blade on top of her neck, showing she had won without taking Luna’s life. Lexa found no reason to, she knew while there were certainly times to take a life, there were also times not to. Even if she knew it would be a different story if the tables were turned. 

⇄⇄⇄

After Lexa was crowned (figuratively speaking) as tribute and the male competition had ended, she stood on stage alongside her counterpart, Gustus Pine.

Gustus was also in on the plan with Anya, and was willing to die for Lexa, if that meant bringing an end to these violent practices once and for all. He’d protect her as best as he could, and ultimately, die for her. 

He _had_ been chosen as the main potential tribute, meaning he only had to fight one person in the conclave. It hadn’t been too hard, as he had the advantage of strength and muscle on his side. 

Gustus turned to Lexa and took her hand, which was quite small compared to his, raising it high in the air with his in a display of unity.

“These are your tributes for the 102nd Hunger Games!” Titus shouted.

Gustus looked to Lexa, knowing even with the status of career tribute, she’d be underestimated. The girl had more wisdom than all of the other noviates, and more strength than all of the other tributes put together, both physically and emotionally. She had been trained in strategy since childhood, and been exceptionally wise even before that.

He would be honored to die for her.

“May the odds be ever in your favor.” Titus spoke, closing the ceremony.

_Screw the odds,_ she thought, _Lexa never needed them anyways._


	4. Josephine Lightbourne, District 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introduction to Josephine Lightbourne, the female tribute from District 1 in the 102nd Hunger Games. Set on Reaping Day.

Josephine Lightbourne was born for this. Everything led up to today, all the hours she spent training, all the lessons on how to throw spears and aim for the throat, and how to stab someone to death effectively and quickly. All of the childhood she missed out on, but also all the elevated social status and admiration she collected from her parents and her peers alike. 

She was District 1’s chosen female tribute for the 102nd Hunger Games. As a career district, their tributes were chosen far before the games, based on the children most likely to ensure another victory for the Capitol’s favorite district. It was an honor to be chosen and there were few people in District 1 who didn’t dream of it. For the citizens of District 1, it was never about the money; families like Josephine’s rarely had to worry about her needs not being met or the threat of living in scarcity. District 1 was the Capitol’s favorite, and it wasn’t a secret. The prospect of winning was about the honor, and Josephine was going to be a tribute like no other.

Her father was Russell Lightbourne, _the_ Russell Lightbourne - victor to the games thirty years previous. She was going to be the first child of a victor, to become a victor herself. 

She had been a contender for the games two years previous, the fourth quarter quell. President Wallace, the younger nephew to the deceased President Snow, had drawn the theme of sending family members of the victors into the arena.

However, District one had taken the opportunity to send Miranda Mason; which made sense, as she was 32 and Josephine was only 15 at the time. Josephine wasn’t surprised when her stand-in was killed in the carnage, but she _was_ surprised when Octavia Blake, a tribute from District 7 only two years older than herself emerged victorious. She didn’t mind though, because her time to shine was near anyways, and she knew she’d overshadow someone from District 7 anyday.

Growing up in a district that specialized in luxury had its perks. While most of the items went straight to the Capitol, scraps would be supplied in the district’s shop. Josephine got the pick of the litter when it came to clothing and jewelry, as her parents couldn’t possibly love their _chosen one_ daughter enough, so they showered her with gifts of her choosing. Her training gear was no different, the sharpest weapons, outfits tailored to fit her body and extensive training lessons on the logistics such as sponsors, environments, how to impress the Capitol and such. District 1 spared no expense on their career tributes, hence why they had the highest amount of victors compared to any other district.

Josephine sat at the dining table in her living room, too anxious to do anything productive. She twirled her hair, wrapping each strand around her finger and twisting it. It was never an anxious habit, it was more of an unconscious default, something she always did without thinking Her parents weren’t particularly fond of the trait, but it would be silly to worry about something so petty on a day so important.

“So are you nervous for the big day, Josie?”

Josephine couldn’t help but cringe. She hated that nickname.

“No,” She spoke, her voice slightly cracking. “of course not.”

“It’s okay if you are nervous,” her father continued, looking directly at Josephine. “But you are going to have to stifle that the second you step onto the stage.”

“I’m not nervous.” Josephine repeated, her tone significantly more assertive than before. She took a breath, returning herself to a calmer tone of voice. “I know that I can win, I know that I _will_ win. It’s just,” she tapped her fingers against the table anxiously, “I can’t believe the time is here.” 

Her mother, Simone, walked towards her, patting her on the shoulders in a gesture of encouragement. “I know,” She slowly breathed in, containing nerves of her own. “You’ll be a victor in no time.”

Simone didn’t know if she was telling this to assure Josephine or herself. She always had an opposition against her daughter going into the arena, unlike her father who would mention it with pride every chance he got. She had seen first-hand how it affected Russell, even if he denied it everytime. And, no matter how much time Josephine spent training, her victory was never completely guaranteed.

She never showed her objection, mostly because it would be shameful to every other mother who could only dream of their child being in Josephine’s position. She also knew just how happy her husband and daughter were with Josephine’s selection, and she would never want to get in the way of that.

“Josephine Lightbourne, victor of the 102nd Hunger Games.” Her father spoke, a smile beaming on his face. “Russell Lightbourne, father to the victor 102nd Hunger Games and the first victor with a successor to the glory.”

Josephine erupted into laughter. “Stop stealing my thunder!” She yelled, playfully hitting her father on the arm. It was in these moments she revealed how much of a child she still was. Being on the higher end of the age range, she was perfectly old enough to fight in the arena regardless. 

Her mother smiled. “When you’re done with breakfast, you’d better go get ready. The ceremony starts at noon.”

Josephine grinned, staring down at the butter roll on her plate she had barely touched. She wasn’t hungry anyways, and she knew the feast available on the train to the Capitol would be more than she could eat.

She waltzed off to her room, a joyful skip in each step she took. She picked up the bowl of oatmeal she had left on the dresser from last night. It was cold by now, but it was probably wise to put _something_ of sustenance in her body before the ceremony. Josephine began to slowly eat from the bowl as she opened her closet. The eggshell-white dress hung up in the middle, that she had picked out months ago. It had taken plenty of begging, as it was expensive, even for District 1’s standards. But, of course, Josephine always got her way in the end.

She slipped her night clothes and slowly stepped into the dress. She stepped close to the mirror that hung by her window. Josephine knew that in this moment, she looked _beautiful._ It wasn’t a narcissistic thing so much as it was a necessity thing. She had to be memorable, she had to be perfect. She had to be far too pretty to die, and far too destined to win.

Josephine’s nimble fingers ran through her hair, twirling it as she spun herself around. Everything felt so perfect in this moment. She was a future victor saying goodbye, she was District 1’s golden girl, she was Josephine Lightbourne and a soon-to-be household name.

The bell rang through the district that announced that it was time to begin gathering for the Reaping just as Josephine had finished getting dressed. It was time.

⇄⇄⇄

“Welcome to the 102nd Hunger Games!” District 1’s escort, Jasmine Mason, exclaimed. “May the odds be ever in your favor.”

Josephine let out a small laugh. The odds _were_ in her favor, but they had been for years now. Oh, how she pitied the districts with a lottery system. Then again, they were just children without a clue. Children who were going to die in two weeks, many of them by her own hand. Acceptable losses, she supposed.

The escort stepped aside as the Capitol trademark video played on the large screen behind her.

Josephine watched as it went on, the same video she had watched for several years. It was nothing new, but it _was_ special this time. The lone victor, glorified and bathed in riches, was going to be her. It felt nothing short of amazing.

All the girls aged twelve to eighteen stood together in the town square, although everyone knew the tributes who were going into the arena. No one questioned the selection system, and it would be a shame in District 1 to try to go against their nominated tribute. They had a system and the system worked. Still, all of their names laid on small paper slips in a bowl on stage, waiting to be picked if necessary.

“Ladies first.” The escort spoke, reaching into the glass bowl.

“I volunteer as tribute.” Josephine spoke, her voice echoing through the near silent area. She hadn’t even given the escort a chance to pick a name out of the bowl, but it wasn’t like she needed to. It was an honor to be selected by the council as tribute for the games, and no one wanted to break it. Everyone’s eyes were set upon her. 

The crowd around her slowly dispersed itself, presenting Josephine in an almost fashion, as if she was the most divine offering - which they supposed she was in a way.

Josephine walked forward slowly, making sure to savor every last second of the moment she had dreamed of since her childhood. 

As she stepped onto the stage she heard the escort ask, “What is your name, dear?”

Josephine leaned forward, a smug and satisfied smirk displaying itself upon her face.

“Josephine Lightbourne.”

“Alright, Josephine.” The escort nodded. “I suppose you are related to Russell Lightbourne?” She asked, already knowing the answer.

Josephine smiled, reaching her hand up to twirl her hair. “His daughter.”

“So you are a legacy tribute.” The escort spoke, played along with knowledge she already knew, but announced mostly for the cameras.

“Yes, I am.” Josephine spoke with such pride that it would’ve come out as gloating had it not been for her natural charm.

The escort gave Josephine a small smile, then turned to face the crowd., “Time for the males.”

She walked over slowly, in the same matter she had for Josephine, taking her time to select a slip of paper that would likely never be needed.

“I volunteer.”

Josephine’s eyes bolted to the crowd of prospective male tributes. She recognized the voice right away.

“Gabriel?” She whispered, her voice still audible due to her proximity to the microphone.

Surely enough, the eighteen-year old boy made his way onto the stage. Josephine didn’t quite know why, maybe he was selected by the council or maybe it was a last minute decision. It wasn’t like she knew the answer, the selected tributes didn’t get to know who their district counterpart would be. There were always rumors, but no one could truly nail it down until the reaping.

Gabriel looked to Josephine, a smirk displaying itself on his face. The two knew each other well from training, as they had been in the same age group in running for the games. They had always had a flirtatious thing* going on, but that was going to have to end soon, seeing as at least one of them would be dead in two weeks time. 

“And what is your name, dear?” The escort asked, noticing the tension between the two tributes but choosing to ignore it.

“Gabriel Santiago.” 

“Well, Gabriel. We look forward to seeing you compete in the arena.” 

He nodded, turning to Josephine for the handshake prospective tributes did every year. As Josephine reached to let go, Gabriel clasped hers tighter and pulled their hands into the air, as to show their union and pride. Josephine quickly followed along, giving the crowd a wide grin.

“Here are District 1’s tributes for the 102nd Hunger Games!”The escort shouted to the crowd, who roared cheers of encouragement for Josephine and Gabriel. Even those who abhorred the Games rooted for their tributes, due to the winning district being showered with gifts and food after the Games.

The escort turned around to Josephine and Gabriel giving them a promising smile. “May the odds be ever in your favor!” 

Josephine smirked. The odds were _always_ in her favor.


	5. Raven Reyes, District 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introduction to Raven Reyes, the female tribute from District 3 in the 102nd Hunger Games. Set on Reaping Day.

Raven was always slow to wake. She dreaded getting out of bed, even when she was a child. Her body would turn to stone and her eyes would feel as heavy as an anchor. She had a way of always being late to school, to work, to wherever she had to be. If Raven needed to be somewhere by seven, she’d be lucky to be there by 7:30.

It was a bad habit, and her parents were never there to shake her awake and tell her to get out of bed. Raven never knew her dad, and her mother was busy drinking herself into a stupor most of the time. She always had to fend for herself, until she met Finn. 

Finn Collins lived next door to Raven. He didn’t actually meet her until she was five, required to go to schooling. She barely left her house before that, mostly because she never had a need to do so. 

Raven walked home after school, as most children in the district did. Finn followed her. After that, it was history. The boy next door had saved Raven from starvation, as her mother spent most of their money on booze.

They connected instantly, and a close relationship turned into a relationship as soon as puberty hit. Raven and Finn were happy together, and despite the oppressive life of the Districts, they always had each other.

Nothing could tear them apart. Except for the Reaping.

⇄⇄⇄

Raven brushed her hand along Finn’s arm. He had clearly woken up before her, but forced himself back to sleep. He didn’t want to face what the day before him held, just as anyone else in his age range didn’t. Today was Reaping Day, and the day two children from his district would unwillingly be sentenced to their deaths. It wasn’t a pleasant thought.

“Good morning,” Raven muttered, her voice still raspy from waking up.

“Not so good.”

“It’s okay,” Raven said, attempting to console Finn. “This is your last year, you won’t be picked.”

“That is precisely why I will be picked.” Finn lamented “My name is in there twelve times, Raven.”

“I know. But, you won’t get picked. I promise.” 

Finn didn’t want to dispute her, he knew she couldn’t possibly know for sure, but he didn’t want to bring any more stress unto the day than was already there. He could never understand why Raven seemed so much calmer about things, but he supposed she was probably just better at hiding it.

“Let’s just stay here forever.” Raven whispered, her voice still raspy from sleep.

“I wish.” Finn replied as slowly pulled himself out of bed despite Raven’s continuous pleas for him to stay.

“Five more minutes.” Raven whined, attempting to pull Finn back into bed.

“I can’t, it’s going to be time for the reaping in less than an hour.”

Raven bit her lip. “It can’t be noon already.”

“It can and it is.” Finn sighed as he stood up out of bed. “We’d better get out.”

“Let’s just skip it.” Raven said, her tone a mix of sarcasm and seriousness.

“And get our tongues cut out for even thinking about it?” Finn scoffed, “No thanks.”

Raven sighed, realizing the truth of their limited options, or rather _option_ , in terms of the Reaping. ”It’ll be okay.” She attempted to reassure Finn. “You’ve got one more year and I’ve got two. We’ve made it this far. Two more years and we’ll be out of the running. We’ll be safe.” 

They both knew deep down it wasn’t that simple, but neither wanted to worry the other by challenging the claim. The only way they’d survive was to try not to believe the hard truth of the matter and hope for the best.

“Two more years.” Finn replied. “We’ll make it.”

⇄⇄⇄

Raven walked slowly to the courtyard, keeping herself close to Finn. Their hands were linked with each other’s, and Finn’s circled his fingers around Raven’s, as if to bring her comfort.

They walked up to the desk where everyone’s blood as drawn, to make sure they were who they said they were and had attended the strictly imperative event. There were separate stations for the boys and the girls, meaning the pair would have to separate at this point.

It came as no surprise, as Raven and Finn has walked together to the Reaping every year since they became eligible. They shared a glance, giving the other solace without making a scene. _It would be fine, it had to be fine._

Raven stood in line and soon enough, it was her turn to get prodded with the zapping gun. She barely felt her finger get pricked, but she couldn’t help but think about just how impersonal it felt. The man taking their blood samples didn’t even bother to look up, as if they weren’t individual people but simply names and numbers in a system. 

The line was long, she was right to get here early. It was her sixth and last year taking part in the Reaping, and she’d mastered the crowds by now. She walked near the back of the girls’ section, pitying the younger girls in the front as she went. She remembered when that was once her, young and terrified. Now she was older and terrified, but way better at concealing it.

Once the crowds had gathered, District 3’s escort came on stage, and gave the typical introduction that had barely changed since the years previous, besides a few words here and there. 

“Welcome to the 102nd annual Hunger Games and may the odds be ever in your favor!” She ended her tedious speech, as the Capitol anthem boomed over the speakers.

The same video showed each and every year played over the large projector behind the stage. Raven’s eyes looked to Finn, who she had taken the time to find as soon as she got to her spot. She gave him a disinterested look, rolling her eyes and giving him a small grin. He looked back and laughed, giving her a look of his own. Despite their fear and progressively increasing heartbeat, they were able to find the humor in the situation, and the god-awful acting in the program.

Once the video had ended, the escort walked towards the mic. “I just love that.” She commented, successfully pissing off at least half of the audience who either had to watch those they knew and loved be put in a lottery to die or be in it themselves.

“Not to waste any time,” She spoke, her soft voice becoming deafening over the microphone that was clearly turned up way too high. “Ladies first.”

Raven tensed up quickly as the sound of the words, knowing her name was put in the bowl six times. She may have been worried for Finn more than herself, but she was still petrified of having her name be the one called on the list. Short of Finn being called, it was her worst nightmare.

“Raven Reyes.”

A nightmare that came true.

Raven froze up near immediately. She realized that she had been so worried about Finn that the idea of herself being picked had become a small afterthought. She had not been prepared whatsoever for what had just happened. She figured that she was 17, she had avoided it for six years, and she just assumed she’d be able to avoid it again. 

Everyone knew Raven, she was one of the best mechanics in District 3, hell, she was _the_ best mechanic in District 3. Fifty-two years and counting. Not for much longer, she supposed.

Her eyes dashed towards Finn’s in panic, the only person in more distress than herself being him. Raven could feel her hands become clammy and she repeatedly wished that she was only dreaming.

After several small pinches to her arm, she realized this nightmare was all too real. She slowly walked up to the stage, doing her best not to appear too scared. Looking weak was something Raven always abhorred, and she needed to appear strong now more than ever. For sponsors, for Finn, for herself.

“Hello, Raven.” The escort said with a smile. Raven knew she had no idea how much terror resided in the citizens on Reaping day, she knew this woman could never understand the fear of every child aged 12-18 waiting to be called to their death, and she could never understand what Raven was feeling right now. She didn’t expect her to.

But, that didn’t mean she didn’t hate her for it.

“Now for the boys.”

Raven’s heart sunk, as of the situation couldn’t possibly get worse than it already was. She wasn’t anywhere near religious, but she anxiously prayed to any God out there that Finn’s name wouldn’t be picked.

She knew she’d die for him in the arena, he had saved her life after all and it would only be appropriate to return the favor. She owed him that much.

“Monty Green.”

Raven first felt a feeling of relief come over her. Any name other than Finn Collins is what she had been hoping for, and the praying must have worked because his name wasn’t called. After the brief moment of comfort passed, she realized who’s name _had_ been called.

It was Monty Green, the boy she had gone to engineering training with and often crossed paths with in their jobs, Monty being a computer programmer and herself a mechanic. She didn’t know him well enough to call them friends, but they had always worked well together and been on amiable terms. She guessed that would have to be put to use now, but it felt sick to try to be friends with him when she’d ultimately wish him to die. All she could hope for now was that she wouldn’t have to do the deed herself.

Monty walked slowly up to the stage, an expression of dismay on his face. He looked more sad then afraid, which only made the situation more depressing. It was as if he had accepted his death in a matter of seconds, marching to his inevitable execution. Which he was, but at least everyone else had convinced themselves they had a fighting chance. Monty hadn’t.

Raven shook his hand, and only then she noticed how clammy her own had gotten. She hoped she hadn’t been involuntarily losing her composure, her body language giving away just how scared she really was.

They made eye contact, something a lot of reaped tributes tended to struggle to do. She found sympathy in his eyes, even though they were both being sent to a probable death, they were in it together now. There was a level of understanding, each being in the same position, each being torn away from their lives and those they loved to participate in a game of child murder for the Capitol’s entertainment.

“These are your tributes for the 102nd Hunger Games. May the odds be ever in your favor!” The escort cheered, her lips turned upwards in a gleeful smile. 

Fuck the odds. They’d never helped Raven before, and they weren’t going to help her now. The only way she had survived was because of her smarts and Finn. Maybe that was how she would survive now.


End file.
